Leather
by Baloo
Summary: It's about leather. Just read it and see.


**Disclaimer:** Hmm... I'm not sure I really need one. Read it and you'll understand what I mean. The lyrics are from Tori Amos... first set from a song, aptly named, "Leather"; and second from "Crucify". 

**A/N:** This is my first attempt at a Labyfic, so let me know how I did, please. 

  
  
  
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Leather

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_Oh god could it be the weather  
Oh god why am I here  
If love isn't forever  
And it's not the weather  
Hand me my leather_

  
  
Hadn't it started but so innocently? 

Three weeks before Christmas, snow like a blanket over the city. Skating in the park and dinner, by the end the couple of glasses of wine and something else creating a warmth that defied the cold winter night. Fumbling with keys, clumsy with anticipation and still somehow they managed to end up on the bed. 

Clothing ripping away, she on top of him. Shirt torn open hastily, buttons popping in the process, but no other cares in the world. Mouth on mouth, tongue caressing tongue, hands roaming urgent and greedy. And leather meeting flesh. 

The unexpected feeling enough to make her gasp, dark eyes wide open and staring down into his, and he realizing suddenly he'd forgotten to remove his gloves. 

Black, supple, softened with age. 

Moving to atone, pausing in surprise when she grabs his wrists, lust naked in her eyes. A whisper, "Leave them on." 

And it was good, so good, and better than it had ever been before. Wild and unbridled, passion reaching heights never before imagined. And just as she reached the peak, tossing back her head in ecstasy, dark hair so long it brushed against his thighs beneath her, she almost called out another name, a name from a time she had thought long forgotten. A name that had no right appearing on her lips in a moment like this, while paradoxically it felt so right. 

The horror of it was enough that she didn't bring up the gloves again until weeks later. 

For his birthday she bought him a jacket, waist-length, black cowhide, zippers and metal contrasting against its softness, worth every penny of the seven hundred dollars. She asked him to wear it that night. Pressing her naked body against his, breasts deliberately rubbing up on the material, eyes squeezed shut and hands running through his hair, expecting it to be longer and disappointed when it wasn't. 

And so it went on for nights that turned to weeks, weeks filled with mindless pleasure. When she bought him pants to match, he'd laughed. But laughter quickly faded when he realized it was no joke. 

They broke up not long after, she with him, for reasons she would not admit even to herself, and she never thought of him again. Instead, other thoughts began to intrude into her mind--thoughts she tried hard to deny, but as time went by, desires arose, needs she couldn't fulfill on her own. 

And that was how she found herself wandering one day into a bar no good girl like herself should ever have been in. Tentative and wary at first, observing only and no more. Eyes opened to a new world, a world that lived only by the night and faded into the background during the day. 

When watching was no longer enough, she moved beyond. A glance was met, a smile returned with one of her own, and at the end of the night she didn't leave alone. Bodies in heat, sharing a wild night of dark passion. It was lust, plain and simple, and she held no illusions. 

Nights of endless pleasure, the line being pushed back further and further, learning how easily ecstasy could become agony and vice versa. And leather--the feel of it against her body, beneath her hands, deep inside her. 

Always different faces, in and out of her life so quickly, they just blurred together. In the end they were just bodies in the night, giving and taking, before disappearing altogether. Yet always, she was searching, searching for the one she would never have, and each one she turned to was but a poor substitution for one who'd offered her, her dreams. 

Sometimes she would find herself staring up at pale skin, pale hair, and the moonlight made all angles sharp and all features harsh... while the sweat glistened on their flesh and there was nothing more than the rhythmic movement of their bodies, she could fool herself into believing she had actually found what she was looking for. For a moment there was satisfaction. But all illusions were broken by the light of day and she found herself aching with longing once again. 

Night after night, so many faces she didn't even see them anymore. Words were no longer required; just find one that understood what she wanted and lead him out the door, sometimes not even making it past the parked car. 

Life in the day was becoming unbearable, and the night was not much better, but here she was again, in a dark room with another one... Finding her attention drawn to the mirror, watching him as he stood behind her, following his every movement. Strange, she hadn't noticed how long his blond hair was. 

Gloved hands snake up to cup her bared breasts, leather rubbing up against her legs from behind. Soft breath against her neck, then at her ear, and he whispers her name... 

But she hadn't told him her name. She never told any of them her name. Feather-light kisses raining on her neck, the slight feeling of teeth scraping against the vulnerable flesh. His mouth distracting as she tries to put together the pieces. That hair, why hadn't she noticed how unusual it was-cut in varying lengths into some unknown fashion. 

And then he was looking into the mirror as well, his gaze catching hers. A familiar, long-sought smirk forming on those lips, eyes that could only belong to one sparkle with delighted mischief as recognition finally dawns in her own. 

The softest of sighs escapes her, and an answering smile with it. Finally... 

  
  
_I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets  
Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets_

  
  
  


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End file.
